Gashes
by solangelo
Summary: Each scar has a name, and some of them are his.


**GASHES**

_Each scar has a name, and some of them are his._

This is probably his fifth time in the clinic. Probably sixth, but he doesn't really count. The first time was when a college senior badmouthed his sister. Nico got out with a bloody mouth and a swollen fist. The college senior, on the other hand, was rewarded with two black eyes and a broken hand. No one really attempted to bother him – or his sister – after that.

In fact, no one talked to him at all, except for his real friends. But he doesn't mind. He doesn't need superficial company. He's perfectly fine by himself, and he can handle being alone for at least four years. Besides, no one really wants to hang out with a guy who broods for a living. He's pretty sure his dad gives him his monthly allowance to do just that.

He limps his way to the bed, folding the fabric of his pants. He props himself up on the clean mattress, sure that he's gotten it dirty now. His clothes are covered in muck and soil. His skin isn't much better – bruises are decorating the lines of his arms, scars are temporarily implanted on his legs. But his knees look the most disgusting – the small circle is swelling with a dark purple glow, and the center is bleeding out.

He pokes the lump and instantly winces.

"What did you do this time?"

Nico turns to look at the sound of a familiar voice. Will appears behind the curtains. He pushes it aside. Nico usually sees him in a casual shirt, a pair of shorts, and sandals. The college doesn't really care about what their students look like, as long as they don't go sauntering around naked. That works rather well for Will Solace, since he's most comfortable looking like he's going to the beach.

But right now, he's wearing light blue scrubs, the garment hiding his usual outfit. Will's hair is curling in different directions. His baby blue eyes are warm, but firm. The smile on his lips is slightly amused, but Nico can tell that the older male doesn't want to see him; not like this, anyway. Nico can't help but find Will slightly endearing. And annoying.

Yeah, annoying sounds good.

"I slid." Nico shrugs, and then grins up at him. "We won the baseball game."

"Congratulations," Will replies, smiling. He ruffles Nico's hair, even though the younger male would never have allowed it. Before Nico can shove his hand away, Will jabs his finger on Nico's forehead. The blond frowns. "I told you to take it easy, didn't I? I thought I wouldn't see your stupid face for months. We agreed to that."

Nico remembers that promise clearly. About a month ago, after Nico was sent to the clinic for the fourth time that semester, Will had tended to his wounds. But he said that he was growing tired of seeing Nico's bruises all the time. And when Nico was hurt, he didn't take the fact lightly. Will made Nico promise to lessen his frequent visits. Unfortunately, the black haired male simply can't resist, and trouble always seems to find him.

It doesn't help that he's also part of the baseball team, after Percy and Jason's strong demands.

If anyone were to blame, it would be them. Nico would never – not even to save his _life_ – join the baseball team on his own.

Nico simply shrugs again. "I promise I won't do it again." He raises a pinky finger to prove it. Although, the possibility of him not getting another injury is rather low.

Will scowls, sensing his apathetic lie. "Shove your promises down your throat, di Angelo. I'm not falling for that again."

"I thought you'd rather shove something else, Solace."

"Later," Will says noncommittally, but a smile is slowly grazing his lips. "Fold your pants higher up. I need to clean the wound."

Nico obliges with no objections. The longer he tries to ignore the searing pain, the more it comes back to bite at him. He grits his teeth when Will dabs wet cotton on the bump. The alcohol is cold on his skin, so that's slightly comforting. But it's still making his head dizzy. The liquid runs down his knees to his ankles. Will takes a seat in front of the bed to get better leverage. He places Nico's foot on his lap. Nico doesn't move. He's afraid that he might knee Will in the face. It definitely doesn't help that Will's hands are warm.

When he attempted a slide just to get on base, he thought he could let himself off easily. Others did it perfectly. Then again, they practiced that stunt longer than Nico had. His first mistake was letting his sleeves rise to his arms, and his second was tugging on his pants to make sure they didn't get in the way. When he arrived on home base, his skin was burning, the kind of pain he got whenever the weather was too hot.

Now, as Will is swabbing the cotton on his knees, he's feeling a different kind of warmth – like a mellow kind of heat when autumn arrives. It's strangely comforting, like he's wearing an invisible sweater. Will blows on the wound to make it dry. Nico clutches at the sheets, forcing himself not to move. He might even kick Will in the balls at this point.

"Your knee looks utterly horrendous, di Angelo," Will comments. He pulls out a first aid kit from under the bed. He opens the bag and plucks out a bottle of Betadine. He pours a little on a new piece of cotton. "It looks like a hickey gone bad."

"Oh, and you would know," Nico shoots back. The muscles on his arms are growing tense with each stroke. Sensing his discomfort, Will slowly rubs his thumb just under the scab, easing away the tautness in Nico's body. Nico starts to relax, the pain starting to fade. Will continues to do that even after putting the Betadine on the bed.

"Next," Will announces cheerily, "is your arm! Now, take off your shirt."

Nico lifts an eyebrow. "Can't you wait until we're finished?"

Will lightly flickers Nico's hair. "Not what I meant, gloomy face. Hurry up, so we can finish. Doctor's orders."

He still doesn't know why he has to take off his shirt, but he doesn't have enough energy to protest. And he can't really resist when Will says, "Doctor's orders." It's a stupid catchphrase in his opinion (Will isn't even a _real_ doctor yet), but it's slightly endearing. Only a little bit. Nico shrugs off his shirt and folds it neatly beside him.

It's not like this is anything new. Will has seen him naked before (not sexually, mind you). He has scars on his back and on his chest, to which Will is still habitually putting cream. They've started to fade now, so they simply look like shadowed lines, but Will is still insistent. He says that he won't stop until they're fully gone, but Nico doesn't think he's talking about the scars anymore.

Will does the same routine to his lower arm: he cleans the wound first, makes sure that the blood is no longer flowing. Then, he spreads the same Betadine on the scar. At first, it hurts. Almost everything does, but Nico is getting used to it. Besides, Will's gentle yet determined expression makes his heart calm down a little. For the first time, he actually has someone else he can lean on. It's starting to get tiring just depending on himself.

"Baseball has actually done you good," Will admits. "You don't look like the same scrawny kid anymore."

Nico has to agree. The muscles of his arms are bigger; maybe not as big as Percy's or Jason's, not even Frank's, but they have _shape_, at least. His stomach is flat, but his abdomen is beginning to become hard. He already has a smooth line in between. It's still nothing compared to Will, though. Not that he'll ever admit that.

When Will is finished, he cleans up the mess. He throws the cotton balls in the trash bin, and he returns the Betadine back in the box. He sits back on the chair, looking at Nico. His one hand is on Nico's unharmed knee. The other is crawling its way in between Nico's fingers. Will beams up at him, and he can't help but smile back. The warmth in his chest expands to his swelling bones.

Will points at the scar on his knee. "So, what are you going to name this one?"

When his visits to the clinic started to get more and more frequent, Will joked, _"What if you name your scars?" _Of course, Nico was utterly confused. What kind of idiot would name his scars? And what kind of names will he even _give_ the scar? The idea was just ridiculous. But Will managed to convince him with that sunny smile of his – the kind that makes the sun lighter in comparison. Will had said, _"It's just a suggestion. Like when someone asks you where you got this awful bruise, you'll remember when you punched that guy, and you'll say, 'Oh, his name is Oscar.'"_

That was the moment when Nico realized that Will was a horrible pun maker.

Smiling at the memory, Nico says, "Certainly not Oscar."

"You're not going to let go of that one, aren't you?" Will observes. His gaze focuses on Nico's lips.

Nico swallows. "No, I'm not. But I'll name this one – " he points at his arm, " – Marco."

Will pulls his eyebrows together. "Why Marco?"

"I just feel like it." Nico shrugs.

"Okay. What about this one?" Will nods at his knee.

Nico taps his chin, looking up at the ceiling. "I'll name it . . . Stefano."

"You have awful taste in names."

"I'm Italian," Nico points out.

"Right." Will stands up, but his hand remains on Nico's knee. The other one is on Nico's shoulder. He grazes the tiny scar on the shoulder blade. "Who is this called again?"

"Raffaele," Nico responds.

Will wrinkles his nose. "Remind me to never let you name our dogs in the future."

He rolls his eyes. "Like you can do better."

"Ah, but I can. I'll name this one Austin." He pokes the scab on Nico's arm. "And this one will be Stephan." He touches Nico's stomach. "And this will be – hey, I never saw this one before."

Nico looks down to see Will brushing the height of his collarbone. He inwardly shivers, his skin burning. "You did that, remember?" Nico glances up at him. "First night? Six months ago?"

A flash of realization dawns on Will's face. "Oh. Yeah, I remember. What's its name?"

"Will," he replies immediately, like it's obvious. "What did you think?"

Nico can tell that Will's surprised. This is the first time he's caught him so unguarded. Will is usually the one who catches Nico off guard. The blond is unpredictable, while Will can read Nico like an open book. Will rubs his thumb on Nico's neck. "And this? I did this, right?"

"Well, I can't really kiss myself on the neck, so yes."

Will ignores Nico's sarcasm. "You named them after me."

"Yes."

"And this?" This time, Will's whole hand is on his chest. Nico can feel his heart thumping – like an earthquake is growing inside his body. Will's skin is warm, but it's shaking against Nico's skin.

Nico refuses to look up at him, but a blush is making its way on his tan cheeks. He clears his throat. "Will," he says, his voice thick. "What did you think?" He feels like there's a secret underneath all those gashes, like a memory that's stuck in between his teeth.

So, when Will tips his chin up and presses their lips together in a startling remedy, all his secrets are unshed, released from his tongue and transferred to the other.

Will pulls away first, his eyes wild, his words breathless. He catches Nico's hand and puts the palm on his own beating chest. "Nico di Angelo," he says, but he doesn't elaborate.

Nico pulls him in for another kiss, knowing fully well what he's saying.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Hi, this is Angel, the second owner of this account. Thanks for reading. :)


End file.
